JAMES J. JEFFRIES

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 277, 31 December 1909, Page 4

JAMES J. JEFFRIES

THE UNDEFEATED CHAMPION BOXER. Jeffries' father was an evangelist, "Guess there's nothing in that to be ashamed of," said Jeff. "What?" replied the interviewer. "That a preacher should have a pugilist for a son';" "Not exactly," said Jeff. "But that a pugilist should have a preacher for a father." The greatest of all prize-lighters was in a merry mood.

CROWDS AND CONGREGATIONS. "1 suppuse,'' he went 011, "you won't be charging me with modesty if 1 say that my lather preached as well as 1 fought. Better a good pugilist than a bad preacher. M_, lather drew great crowds —not 50 great as my crowds, but, still, big congregations, lie also travelled a 3 far to preach as 1 did to fight. 1 Once lie came' to England. You were all lighters then, and the purse was South Africa. Your prize-light was called the liuer War. .My father was a dark man, and wore a black beard. One day some young patriots in a London street took him for a Boer, and mobbed him. lie turned round and preached to them, and then they slid away." Still "harping" 011 his iailier, as Poi lonius would say, Jellries mentioned ' that the evangelist parent attempted to dissuade his sou from choosing pugilism as a profession, calling the 24ft n.ig the "devil's cockpit." In the end, however, he consented I' Jell' following his bent, evidently convinced that the young Hercules would not be turned from his purpose. "I've made as many dollars at fighting as my father made cents at preaching," said Jell', with philosophical assurance. He also added that, after he won a fight, his' father's congratulations came with the rest. By never losing a battle, the filial J elf spared his father the humiliation of telegraphing his condolences. .

PUGILIST OR PREACHER? Another story is worth telling. It is brand new. Two men had a wager in the smoking-room of the Waldorf Hotel, London. Pointing to jell'nes, one said, "Bet you a box of cigars that hefty fellow over there is a pugilist.' - "Done!" said the, other. 'J hey approached Jeff, and apologised for troubling him. He told them not to apologise, as lie guessed he aid not owe them anything. The challenger explained the wager, and Jellries, smiling like a big boy—all big pugilists are big boys at heart—said, "Well, my father was an evangelist." The man who took the wager claimed the box of cigars; but the challenger demurred that the father's profession did not determine the soil's.

"Hallo, Jeff!" shouted a handsome man, with a voice like an organ as ne hurriedly entered the room, extending a grand, glad hand. "Hallo, Jem!" said Jell', rising to greet his old friend and foe. The newcomer was Corbctt, wiio had run up to London between provincial music-hall engagements to talk over the battles of the past and plans of the future. The strangers knew Corbett, and tlie loser cheerfully called for a box of cigars, amid uproarious laughter. Describing their meeting, Jeffries said:

'•\Ve talked of great fights and great fighters. Anybody looking m as 1 might have wondered that we cuuld laugli and chat its we did. alter having done the best we could to half kill cacn other. But that is tiie way with lighting men. They do not light li'ke othei "n.en. There is generally no ill-will Ictwccn them. They light [or honor and money, and not for the pleasure of ptniisiiiug eacn other. Corhctt and J were always gtiod friends, though hundreds of blows were exchanged between us when he twice tried to take the championship from me. Corliett is a lovely fellow!" That was hardly the kind of phrase to expect one piigiii-l to appi, to another, hut unemotional Jell used it, all the same. There is fervor 1.1 American colloquialisms. The picture of these two well-groomed men, with bejewelled fingers and manicured nails, contrasted strikingly with the guise and temper of,.the same men pitted against each

other for twenty-three rounds, before 10,000 delirious spectators, at Coney Island; and again at Francisco, when Jeffries so belabored Corbett ill the eleventh round that his seconds gave up the fight. It was some surprise to the reporter to learn from .fell' that he regarded his twenty-livc-round fight with Tom Sharkey, the Irish Marine, under the Marquis of Qucensberry rules, at Coney island, as the greatest battle in his unsullied career. Sharkey was a short man, of gigantic girth. His expanded chest measured 47',.jin, though his height was only of! S'/.ia. Jell's expanded ehesl. measured" 4Sin, ami he stood Oft lin. Sharkey's neck measurement was li'/dn, and Jell's 17in. Their respective biceps were lain and lOin. Sharkey weighed Ust 31b, Jell' lost 81b. When the light began, the jovial lnsn sailor said to Jell', as they shook hands, "May the best man win." The best man did, though Sharkey dissented, claiming that he was entitled to the decision. From this fact may be gathered some idea of the desperate nature of the bailie. Jell's laconic summary of the fight ■was:

"So many hard blows on lace and body were never delivered by any two men in one battle. The Navy never produced a better man thau Sharkey. I knew I had him beaten from the start —li always know this within a few minutes—but I had to win on points, and that is not so easy. From the first to the twenty-fifth round we fought like bisons. The struggle ended, after a series of walloping exchanges, in a clinch, and immediately upon the gong sounding the referee awarded the honors to mc.

WHITE VEKSUS 11LACK. "I had beaten the man who stood second only to myself as the greatest natural fighter in the world. I never want to go through so hard a fight again, and I do not believe any man alive can make me. I learned enough that day to do me for the remainder of niy fighting career. I can remember now sitting in mv corner before we got to blows, scanning with admiration Sharkey's huge chest, hi- '-nlging muscles, and massive stfengin. 'i lien I looked at my own proportions, ami . knew I was the sailor's master, lint had lie been a man of my height, aim built proportionately, there is no saying what might have happened: though it 'is not iti me to imagine that any whiff: man could ever bent me." "What about the black man, Johnson?" queried the interviewer. "( am ready for him as soon as hj" is' ready for me. But if any white man in the interval takes the championship from Johnson, then 1 shall trouble no more about prize-lighting hut go hack to my ranch and stay I here. A black champion 1 can't abide, and America expects me to do my duty. Wc don't, like color in the Stales."—Home paper.